"Stay! don't stumble, my lord! What is lying there directly across the way?"
"A soldier--in full armor--a Vandal!"
"And sound asleep in the midst of all this uproar."
"He must be very drunk."
The older man pushed the prostrate figure with the handle of his spear.
"Who are you, fellow?"
"I?--I?" The startled warrior propped himself on one elbow; he was evidently trying to think. "I believe I am--Gunthamund, son of Guntharic."
"What are you doing here?"
"You see. I am on guard. What are you laughing at? I am on guard to prevent any carousing in the grove. Where are the others? Have you no wine? I am horribly thirsty." And he sank back in the tall soft grass.
"So these are the guards of the Vandals! Do you still counsel, my brave duke, as you advised,--beyond the sea?"